Holiday GSR Fluff: A Quick 'n Easy Recipe
by csishewolf
Summary: Who doesn't like a little half baked GSR this time of year?


**Disclaimer:** I own many things, but CSI is not one of them.

**Props:** To Cybro and Jennie, for being wonderful people.

**A/N:** The holidays do weird things to me. This would be a product of the weirdness.

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RECIPE FOR: HOLIDAY GSR FLUFF

**_SKILL LEVEL: QUICK 'N EASY!_**

**INGREDIENTS: **

1. One intelligent gap-toothed brunette, preferably named Sara Sidle

2. One socially-inept forensic entomologist, preferably named Gil Grissom

3. Two rooms, a break room and an office work best

4. Various plot devices, found in any common fan-fiction

5. Random memories of the past, for both the brunette and the entomologist

6. Holiday symbols and icons, for decoration

**_NOTE_: **_Best prepared on Christmas Eve_

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STEP 1

_First, place the gap-toothed brunette in the break room. Add reading material, coffee or tea if desired._

ooooo

Sara sat quietly at the small table in one corner of the break room. The article she was reading was doing little to remove the haze of boredom and restlessness from her mind. It was late, and it was Christmas Eve. The nagging reminder that Christmas arrived in two hours was prevalent, but this year her melancholy was less than before.

Since her father's death, the holidays had not brought much joy into Sara's world. But she suffered through them, knowing that soon things would return to normal. Her first Christmas in Vegas had been a relatively good one. Last year's was dismal; the split had affected everyone's mood. This year, Sara was ambivalent to the whole ordeal. She would work tonight and Christmas Day as scheduled, and all those tidings of comfort and joy would disappear by Monday morning. Besides, nothing brought out the lamest breed of criminal element like the holidays.

Still, there was a flickering of hope that remained aglow in Sara's mind. Would Grissom get her a present this year? Should she give him the one resting idly in the backseat of her car? Last year he didn't even acknowledge Christmas, he was too caught up in the aftermath of the split. He also might have been distracted by Sofia as well, and although the thought made a piece of her heart twist in pain, Sara had come to terms with what she called The Grissom Situation. Specifically - that it wasn't going to happen, and she wasn't going to waste her time waiting for it. Yet, the flicker of hope still remained. Her thoughts drifted as the digital clock on the microwave slowly marked the time until the arrival of Christmas.

**STEP 2**

_In the other room, mix the socially-inept entomologist with random thoughts of his past. Use thoughts sparingly, as too many will overload the GSR and may cause a meltdown of the fluff into angst. _

ooooo

Gil fitfully tapped his pen against the notepad on his desk. He glanced at the small clock across the hallway. It was two hours until Christmas, and he wondered yet again if he was doing the right thing. For three of Sara's six years here in his lab, he had gotten her a Christmas gift. Three years of wanting to get her something special and reveling in her delight as his choices. Three years of warm eyes and soft smiles as rewards for his efforts. But, things had changed between them and now he wasn't sure if she even felt anything at all. The warmth in her eyes had faded a long time ago.

He leaned back in his chair and reached for his bottom desk drawer, pulling it open. Sara's gift from Year Four rested there in the back, atop an empty cockroach cage and an old jar of dried mealworms. The gift was still wrapped in the simple gold foil paper of the jeweler, a jeweler now out of business due to the poor economy. Gil sighed slightly to himself, remembering the day he'd purchased the necklace. It had a different beauty, an elegance in its simplicity, it was so like her that he needed for her to have it.

The night he meant to give it to her was when he'd heard about the firings in the department. An officer and his subordinate were discovered in an interoffice relationship, the alcohol from the Christmas party bringing out their truth of their affair. It was forbidden; they were both dismissed immediately. Although their situation was different than his with Sara, the lesson rang true to him that year. He had placed the small box in his drawer, deciding against the path of his heart and following the path of his mind. Logic and reason would always prevail. His decision was what was best for the both of them.

Now, two years later, Gil was tired of living in denial. Logic and reason did not bring happiness. Life was meant to be lived, lest it be taken from you when you least expected it. Nick's trauma was a prime example of that. The battle between Gil's fears and emotions had raged, but after seeing the panic and trust in Nick's eyes when he called to him through the Plexiglas, emotion finally won the war. Gil was no longer a man without feelings, a man without friends or family. He learned who he was that day, and he decided who he wanted to be.

His feelings for Sara returned; never really gone but now stronger than before. They haunted his mind at the least opportune moments, the most opportune moments; hell, thoughts of her were always with him. He knew he should not have let their friendship deteriorate and he struggled with resolutions to the problem. But none were acceptable, and he continued to wade in the limbo of indecision. Gil closed the bottom drawer slowly. "Maybe next year will be better," he thought.

**STEP 3**

_Combine entomologist with gap-toothed brunette in break room. Beat vigorously with Plot Devices until both are thoroughly confused._

ooooo

Gil picked up his coffee cup as he stood. A wave of exhaustion had washed over him and he needed another dosage of caffeine. Perhaps he'd get lucky and someone will have made a fresh pot. Once he was in the break room, a strange sense of foreboding came over him. Something was about to happen.

Sara lifted her head from her forensics magazine, her senses alerted to Grissom's presence, and perhaps something more. She looked at him quizzically as he slowly made his way to the coffee machine.

"Did you just make this?" he asked quietly, gesturing to the fresh coffee.

"Yeah," she replied, "I needed a refill." She raised her own cup in display.

"Thank you," he murmured as he settled himself at the far corner of the large table. He looked unsettled, and Sara wondered what was on his mind.

Suddenly, Nick, Warrick and Greg all came barreling into the break room. All three were dressed in expensive tuxedos and sporting large bouquets of red roses.

"Sara," they echoed in unison, "We can't deny it anymore. We're tired of watching you waste away while you wait for _that asshole_." All three pointed their bouquets in Grissom's direction. "Please, come away with one of us for the holiday. We love you, Sara Sidle!"

"Marry me!" Greg cried. "No," Nick groused, swiping his flowers at Greg, "you aren't right for her. Marry me instead Sara!" Greg raised his roses in defense and the two started a small bouquet battle. Warrick acknowledged the two with a disgusted sniff as he stepped closer to Sara, presenting his own bouquet to her dramatically. "You know we would be good together," he murmured huskily. "I've heard you sing. We could perform together, on and off the stage. I can give you it all, sweetheart. I deliver on what I promise." Warrick's eyes glowed with a smoldering heat of sensuality.

Sara sat back in her chair and blinked. Really, she wasn't capable of much else. Grissom attempted to form his infamous scowl, but he was interrupted by the feminine screeching coming from behind the trio in the doorway.

"Out of the way!" came the screeching. Along with it came Teri Miller, Lady Heather and Sofia Curtis, each dressed in a skimpy Santa outfit. Cleavage was popping out everywhere. Nick and Greg were momentarily distracted by the overflow of fleshy bosoms, but only momentarily.

"We," the women purred, "are here for _you_, Gil. You deserve better than _that tramp._" All three shrugged their shoulders in Sara's direction. "Pick one of us. Pick one of us _NOW._"

It was Gil's turn to do the blinking, although he had risen from his chair and was scrambling backwards to achieve the greatest distance between himself and the three she-demons. Wind from some unknown source was gently blowing their hair around in a strange, sexually distracting way. All were pouting and making obscene indications with their tongues. That is until Teri tripped Lady Heather, breaking her three inch stiletto heel and sending her tumbling into the table. Lady Heather snaked out a manicured hand in attempts to save herself, and she hooked her long, fake fingernails into Sofia's flowing hair. With a yank, Sofia was on the floor, and Teri was stepping over the two of them, making lewd motions towards Grissom with her tongue. Sofia scissor-kicked Teri's ankles, which sent her sprawling and started a fever-pitched catfight between the three women. Grissom shot Sara a look of desperation as the writhing pile of cleavage and skimpy Santa suits inched closer.

"What is going on here?" Catherine shouted from the doorway, clad entirely in white and bearing more cleavage that all of the Santa bimbettes combined. Nick and Greg instantly ceased their flower-fighting and turned towards the voice of authority. Warrick seemed to shrink away from Sara as he hid his bouquet behind his back. Three tousled female expressions were seen popping up over the top of the break room table. The men were the first to bear Catherine's wrath.

"What the hell are you doing? Are you insane? You all have work to do, and I'm sure Sara isn't interested in your attentions. Besides, she has personal issues that none of you would be able to handle. She's tainted goods, guys." Catherine's expression was dominant and smug. Sara could only gape at her audacity, although her right hand was subconsciously forming itself into a fist. "Get going - now!" Catherine barked. "That's right, run along. What good young men you are!"

Nick, Greg and Warrick slinked out of the break room, heads down, remnants of rose bouquets drooping. If the tuxedoes had tails, they'd be tucked between the three men's legs. Sara followed them curiously. Did they all really love her and want to marry her? While Sara was watching the young men depart, Catherine was ripping the Three Santa Furies a new one.

"You all better get the hell outta here and fast! There is no way that I'm letting any of you get your claws on that man there while I'm still around. He and I go way back and anyone who has half a brain can see he's been in love with me since the very beginning."

"Beginning of what?" Teri asked with her cold, dead voice. "I've probably known him longer than you have!"

"Well he slept with me," Lady Heather retorted.

"Are you sure about that?" Catherine sneered in reply. "That's not what I heard, and I heard it from an incredibly reliable source." She shot a reprimanding glare towards Grissom, who was shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"Well…" he said, letting his voice die off.

"Wait, you slept with… with her?" Sofia gasped at Grissom, clearly appalled. "A prostitute? And I only got a lousy _dinner_?"

"I ain't no prostitute, you stupid bitch."

"No, you're just a slut in a leather slut suit, that's all," Teri said with a disapproving glare. "Slut. Slut. Slut. I can't believe you'd ever think you'd be worthy of his time."

"I'm no bitch!" Sofia cried, finally realizing Lady Heather's insult. She slammed her manly-looking fist into Lady Heather's perfect jaw. Lady Heather responded with a solid kick to Sofia's mid-section, dropping her like a stone, and then turned to face Teri Miller. "It isn't my fault you're frigid," Lady Heather spat. Teri's eyes went wide as Lady Heather pounced on her. The two began a fierce battle while Sofia wheezed wimpily in one of the chairs.

"Enough!" Catherine cried. "I want you all out of here right now. Gil is my man, he loves _me, _and I will murder the doctor who does your plastic surgery if you don't back the hell off!"

Teri and Heather stopped fighting. They helped Sofia up out of her chair and the three left the room without another word. Sara stared at them all, mesmerized by the overabundance of estrogen in overdrive. Was she ever like this? She hoped not. That was downright frightening.

Catherine started a slinky stripper-like walk towards a now-frozen-in-fear Grissom. "You know we're meant to be, Gil. It's destiny. We'll be great together. You can retire and stay home with Lindsey while I run the lab in your place. And you know," she purred as she lazily traced a fingernail along Grissom's collarbone, "in time you might even learn to enjoy it."

Fear was not what was apparent in Grissom's eyes. Unadulterated terror would be a more apt description. Sara rose from her seat and started towards the door. She really didn't need to see this.

Grissom saw her imminent departure and called over Catherine's shoulder. "Sara, wait!"

But Sara didn't hear him as she was now standing eye to eye with Conrad Ecklie. "I need to see you and Gil in my office." He snapped his fingers and Sara and Gil found themselves in the gloom of Ecklie's domain, he himself seated in a very fancy leather chair with shiny brass trim. A bad toupee rested slightly askew atop his head. Sara could have sworn she'd seen this very scenario before… but she couldn't quite place it.

"_YOU'RE FIRED_!" he cried, pointing at them.

Sara and Gil looked at each other in question and then back at Ecklie.

"Which one of us is fired, Conrad?" Grissom asked, confused. "And why?"

"_YOU ARE!_" he spat, pointing again at some indistinct area between them. "_YOU'RE FIRED_!"

Sara's head was beginning to spin. What had she put in that coffee? Maybe this was just some bizarre caffeine-induced hallucination. She stood confidently. "When you decide which one of us you want to fire, do let us know." She turned and walked towards the doorway when a warm hand pressed against her back. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the serious, yet comforting gaze of Grissom. He led her through the door and down the hallway. They were clearly done with the bizarre ranting of Ecklie.

A shot rang out and Sara felt the bullet whiz past her shoulder. She turned immediately to Grissom; had he been hit? He was looking at her with the same question in his deep blue eyes.

"Are you all right?" they both asked each other simultaneously. Once they'd determined that the bullet had amazingly passed through the half-inch space between their shoulders, and their pulses had returned to something of a normal state, each stared at the other with blatant intensity.

"You could have been killed," Grissom said to her, his voice heavy with the thought.

"Same with you," she replied in the same leaden tone. "I… I don't know if I could have handled that." She turned her face towards his and she couldn't help the buildup of tears in her eyes. To have had him die in front of her…

"Me either." Grissom placed his palm gently against her cheek. "Honey, I…"

"HEY! Are you okay?" Bobby's voice broke the moment and both stepped away from the other and stood awkwardly as the ballistics technician ran towards them. "I am _so_ incredibly sorry! I have no idea what happened! The rifle… it, it just went off!"

"What kind of rifle was it?" Grissom asked curiously.

"An official Red Ryder Carbon Action 200 shot range model air rifle. How it fired with a _real_ bullet in it is anyone's guess! I'd better go and take a look at it. Again," Bobby said with deep regret, "I am _so_ sorry!"

They both watched Bobby plod back to his ballistics lab. "Well, that was strange," Sara said with mild sarcasm.

"Yeah," Grissom replied, "it was." He placed his hand back in its proper position on Sara's back and went to guide her towards his office. Things were becoming very clear to him, especially after that near miss. They needed to talk.

Hovering in the doorway of Grissom's office were two pairs of black sunglasses. Attached to the sunglasses were two very serious-looking people. "NSA," they said as they flipped their identification. Then they turned to each other, grinned evilly, and turned back to face Grissom and Sara. "Not FBI." Grissom and Sara paused a few feet from the doorway, their confusion at recent events growing.

The pair of sunglasses on the left spoke first. "We need you for a top-secret mission, Dr. Grissom."

"It's a case only you can solve, Dr. Grissom," the pair on the right echoed.

"You'll need to come with us right away, Dr. Grissom," said the left.

"To San Francisco," said the right.

"And you'll need a female partner to come with you," said the left as he eyed Sara intently.

"Just like her," chimed the right as he pointed at Sara, his long wiry finger almost touching her nose.

"We'll need you to appear to be married," they parroted together. Then they whispered and giggled like schoolgirls. "You'll be in disguise!" they sang happily. "You get to dress up as Santa Claus!"

The right one stopped his giggling and grew serious. "Well," he said, "sort of. You'll be an 'adult' Santa and Mrs. Claus. How do you feel about leather thongs?"

Grissom turned to Sara. "This is ridiculous. I don't know what's going on, but it's getting out of hand."

"You're having these hallucinations too? Maybe it _was_ that coffee I made."

"Air," he stated simply. "We need air." They hurried their way outside to the parking lot and over to Grissom's SUV. Sara leaned against it, trying to control the spinning of her mind. "What is happening to us?" she asked.

"Honey, I have no idea."

A squeal of tires caused them both to turn towards a giant eighteen wheeler that was barreling towards them, clearly out of control.

Grissom grabbed Sara's shoulder and yanked her away from his SUV. They both made it out of the path of the runaway semi just in time as it crashed into the Denali and flattened it like a pancake.

The eighteen wheeler was red, its trailer also painted red with a cheery old-fashioned picture of Santa holding a soda bottle emblazoned on the side. Bright Christmas lights adorned the entire trailer and the truck cab. A scruffy-looking truck driver climbed out of the overturned cab, unhurt but very disoriented.

"Hey… yo, I'm sorry about that. I don't know what happened. I guess I lost control of her there." The man sighed heavily. "It's the crazy music they make us play. I swear it's enough to drive ya nuts! Everyone knows Santa Claus is coming, it's Christmas Eve for chrissakes!"

Grissom nodded indifferently at the man, more intent on the Sara that was clinging to him and shivering slightly. He rested his hand on her head and pulled her close, hoping his presence would ease away some of her fears. She buried her head against his chest as he looked up to the heavens. "What the hell is going on?" he whispered.

**STEP 5**

_Once the brunette and the entomologist are thoroughly confused, set them aside for 15 minutes. Do Not Refrigerate!_

ooooo

Grissom led Sara to a bench a few feet away. They both sat in silence for a while, his arm wrapped loosely around her shoulder. Her hand was resting against his thigh, but even the warm tingling sensation it caused was over-ridden by the bizarre circumstances of their immediate past. Occasionally he would stroke her hair lightly.

"That must have been some coffee," she murmured, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay. I'm glad it happened."

She looked up at him curiously. "You are?"

His eyes went soft and he spoke quietly. "Yes, I am. Whatever happened in there… and over there, it has put us here, where I'm sitting with you… like this." He gently brushed a tendril of her hair away from her face.

"Oh," she said, turning away from him.

**STEP 6**

_Gently stir in a pinch of an overdramatic romantic cliché. Be very careful not to add too much! This is a recipe for holiday fluff, not smut._

ooooo

"I need to tell you something," Grissom said as he shifted his body to face her.

She held up her hand. "Please. Don't say something you'll invalidate later. I am done riding that emotional rollercoaster with you."

"I know you're upset, but this isn't like before. It's different now."

"Because a tractor trailer tried to run us over?" Sara's expression was one of distrust and apprehension.

"No, honey. Because Nick almost died. And I realized that it could have been any of us. It could have been me. It could have been _you_."

Sara's eyes were sad with the memory, but they were curious as well. "So what it is it you need to tell me?"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For everything I've done that's hurt you, I am extremely sorry."

"Oh Grissom," she sighed, her voice cracking on his name. "It isn't that simple."

He echoed her distress. "I know. But you deserve an apology, and I wanted you to have it."

A lone tear trickled down her cheek. "Thank you," she said, returning her hand to its resting place on his thigh.

Grissom realized it wasn't enough and he stood abruptly. "There is something else I want you to have," he stated. "Stay here."

Sara watched as he walked swiftly to the back door and then disappeared into the lab. He returned a few moments later with something small in his hand.

"This," he said dramatically, "is for you." He handed it over to her ceremoniously, and Sara grinned at his actions.

"Okay," she said with a glint of suspicion in her gaze. The gold foil paper seemed slightly aged when she touched it, and the tape released easily. She opened the simple white box to find a black velvet jewelry one contained within.

"I should have given you this a long time ago." Grissom couldn't hide the bitterness in his voice. What a fool he had been. He laid a hand softly on her shoulder. "Forgive me."

She opened the box. Within was a necklace, platinum with six diamonds set at the throat in an interlocking pattern. Each had a different cut, yet the overall design resembled a simple straight line. It was unusual to say the least, and it was obviously incredibly expensive.

"Grissom, I… it's beautiful. I…"

He covered her hand in his own, closing the lid of the box. "Please, say you'll accept it. It's been in my bottom drawer for over two years now due to my own stubborn idiocy. Please, just … keep it. I want you to have it."

She smiled warmly at him, the smile from Christmases past that sent his heart racing. "I have something for you, too," she grinned. She handed him her necklace as she stood quickly.

With a slightly shocked expression on his face, Grissom watched as Sara disappeared into the lab, returning only to go to her car. She hauled out some monstrous box that was almost as big as her and hefted it over to him.

"This," she stated with her own dramatic flair, "is for you. Merry Christmas."

It was no jewelry box, that's for sure. Grissom opened in carefully, and what he found hidden beneath the simple red and green paper astounded him.

"It's a telescope. A big one."

"It's one of the best ones you can buy without going into the thousand dollar price range." Her voice was proud, knowledgeable. She had done her homework, and she rattled off statistics about image ratios and magnifications. Grissom almost didn't have the heart to interrupt her.

"Sara," he said after she'd wound down, "it's magnificent. How did you know?"

She shrugged casually. "Something I overheard."

He stood quickly, hefting his gift. "Follow me," he told her.

**STEP 7**

_Finish by sprinkling holiday symbols and icons throughout. Use as many as you deem appropriate._

ooooo

After he stowed his new telescope in the back seat of his car, Grissom led Sara back to his office. They both stopped before his doorway, noticing the mistletoe that was not present before.

"The hallucinations continue," Sara murmured. "That must have been one special bag of coffee Greg brought in."

"Before we go in," Grissom said, "I have something else I need to say. Something I need to ask."

"What is it?"

Grissom shuffled his feet nervously. "Is it too late? I mean, for me. For us." He ran his hand through his hair and appeared very interested in her shoes.

Sara looked up at the mistletoe. "I don't know." She walked slowly to the doorway and leaned against the frame. "Why don't you ask me again over here?"

Grissom grinned. It wasn't too late after all. He strode towards her and positioned himself very, very close to her. "Sara Sidle," he whispered, "am I too late?"

She met his eyes. "No." And he kissed her softly, there in the doorway beneath the bright green leaves of the mistletoe. And once he started, he knew he'd never, ever stop kissing Sara Sidle. He could do this forever. A sly thought crossed his mind… wouldn't that make their jobs a lot more interesting? Still, he'd better be careful. Oh hell, they'd work it out somehow.

Grissom finally released her and a quick glimpse in his office showed four semi-translucent figures clapping avidly, dancing for joy and giving high-fives to each other. One was an older gentleman wrapped in chains who was dancing around two others who looked like fugitives from a 15th-century opera doing a 20th century handshake. The last was a dark, hooded character who was clapping his thin, bony fingers in obvious childlike glee.

Grissom turned his head to look at the clock across the hall. 12:03 a.m. It had been Christmas for three minutes. When he turned back to his office, his ghostly visions were gone. He shook his head and focused back on what was most important, the young woman wrapped loosely in his arms

"Merry Christmas Sara."

"Merry Christmas Grissom."

He bent his head to kiss her again, and they both knew that neither would ever spend another holiday alone.

_**THE END**_

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"So," Sara stated as she studied the mess piled up in the hallways and other rooms within the lab, "that's it. 'The End.' And all of this other stuff is left over." She shoved a very ornate Christmas wreath off to the side with the toe of her shoe. The DNA lab was filled with eight tiny reindeer, and they were making a huge mess. The disdain in Sara's expression was obvious.

"Looks like it," Gil replied. "More Charles Dickens, Rudolph, Frosty, The Grinch, 'Twas The Night Before Christmas, there's a ton of holiday stuff here that didn't get used."

"Don't people clean up when they are finished? What's the deal? Leave it until tomorrow?" She turned her face towards the ceiling. "Hey up there!" she hollered. "What gives?"

Grissom smiled at her antics before replying to her. "I have no idea 'what gives', hon. But I can assure you, I am not cleaning this up. And neither are you."

"I used to like that story."

"Huh? Which?"

"The Night Before Christmas. They made a special out of it when I as kid. Had a mouse that pissed off Santa Claus. You don't see it any more on TV, but I remember it."

Grissom shot Sara a wry smile. "I see where this is going. You want me to say it, don't you."

"I do. I think it is fitting. You should have said it before this was all finished."

He shook his head a little in acknowledgment. That was his Sara, always pragmatic and drawn to details. "Should we drive somewhere? At least make an exit?"

"Why don't we make it a significant one," Sara purred huskily as she placed a hand on his chest. "Your place or mine?"

Grissom swallowed slightly at her implication, and then gave her a bawdy wink. "I make a mean waffle, Miss Sidle."

"Your place it is then. Your car, too. Shall we go?" She held out her arm for him to escort her. He linked his arm with hers and the two paraded themselves out of the lab and into his car.

"Roll down the window and do it," she said with a giggle. "God, this is so freaking silly."

Grissom chuckled in childish anticipation. "I'm driving out of sight! Here I go!" He turned to her with the biggest grin ever. "You ready?"

Sara started laughing in earnest. "Go for it!"

Grissom stuck his head out the car window and shouted at the top of his happy little lungs:

"**_Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"_**


End file.
